sty, for modesty had nothing
to do with the matter. It was not the fear of rejection, for she was
sure of her ground. It was probably a threefold influence--a rope, as
it were, of three stout strands. The first was consideration for
Anthony's pride; the second, an anxiety lest she should beggar him of
that which he prized above rubies, namely, his self-respect; the third,
an innate conviction that while the path of Love may look easy, it is
really slippery and steep out of all conscience.

Thus absorbed in the delicacy of their relationship, they stepped the
length of the terrace in silence. Then--

"I don't know what you're thinking about," said Valerie, "but I should
like to."

Anthony shook his head.

"I'll tell you a story instead," he said. "If you like, that is."

"Please."

She turned and leaned her arms upon the stone balustrade, overlooking
dim lawns and, beyond, the pale ghost of a great park that seemed to
stretch and roll unlimited into the depths of a distance which Night
had bewitched.

"There was once," said Anthony, "a frog. He wasn't much of a frog, as
frogs go. In fact, with the exception that he had no home and no
friends, he was a very ordinary frog indeed. One day when he was sick
and tired of being alone, he went out and bought a tame minnow.
Considering how poor he was, it was very reckless, because it meant
that there were now two mouths to feed instead of one, but the minnow
and the frog became such great friends that that didn't seem to matter.
At last, sure enough, the day of reckoning arrived. The larder was
empty, the minnow's appetite was as healthy as ever, and the frog was
down to his last penny. So, after a lot of thought, he left the minnow
playing in a quiet pool, and went out to earn some flies. By dint of
toiling very hard all day, he managed to earn enough to keep the minnow
and himself, but it meant that the two had very little time together,
and that was a shame.

"Well, one day the frog got back to the pool a little earlier than
usual, and, chancing to lift up his eyes, there seated upon the bank he
saw a real live Princess. What the frog thought, when he saw her, may
be imagined. What he felt doesn't matter. Enough that he was
profoundly moved. So moved that he almost forgot to give the minnow
his flies. And long after the Princess had risen and gone away, the
frog kept thinking of her, and thinking, and thinking.... And then,
all of a sudden, he bega